Letters
by La Ann
Summary: Tweek finds comfort in a tad strange way, and Craig's finds letters confusing. A/N: Adding a second portion from Craig's point sometime but for now it's complete.


**A/N**: This has also been just lying around. I never put up anything fresh out of the printer do I?

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"Oh God, oh God, oh God..." I muttered under my breath as I run towards the other end of the school, trying to reach a locker in time, pushing accidentally other students on my way, shouting stuttered apologies to each and everyone even if I hardly even scrape them with my shoulder.

Usually I do this earlier before anybody even sets a foot inside the school grounds, but now I'm late. All thanks to the fact that I managed to actually sleep last night. Not much, but a few hours. Nobody woke me up and here I am, trying to get to his locker before he comes. Why? Well, it's a habit. Bad or good, I can't tell. Usually I do this a few times per month, at the same precise time, 7.50; ten minutes before students start to slowly creep inside.

I looked more worse than normally. I had only buttoned three of the buttons on my shirt in my haste, my hair looked more wild than normally and the dark circles under my eyes looked more pronounced than ever it made me wonder if sleeping was really that good for you. I haven't even managed to get a gulp of coffee to my system and I felt like crashing from the need of caffeine.

As I run I feel the familiar stares boring into my back, annoyed shouts of 'HEY!' as I accidentally shoved a student down to the floor, sending his papers to flutter across the hall. I lightly feel the impact, but magically maintain my balance and keep on running as I yet again shout my apologies. Turning around a few corners I know that I'm getting closer for the people start to lessen around me. And that I know for a fact that not that many have their lockers located here or any classes for it's an old wing. Been abandoned for a long time.

Panting, I get near his locker and stop right in front of it. I check if anybody's watching before I pull a slightly crumbled letter from my pocket, dropping it inside his locker from one of the small holes in it. Allowing myself a small smile, I make my way to my own locker and wait there as I change my books to the ones I need.

Yes, I realize in a way that this is stupid. But I need some outlets too, right?

As the wait grows longer, I feel the need to fidget. I peer from behind my locker door from time to time to see if he's come, but no. He hasn't. I'm starting to feel like he isn't coming today. The rare passing students give me strange looks as I just stand by my locker with my face buried deep inside, doing practically nothing. An embarrassed blush creeps on my cheeks so I busy myself with putting my books in alphabetical order in the locker. Previously they were arranged by color.

I perk up as I hear a locker being opened nearby. Yet again I carefully peek from behind the door and watch the raven haired boy open his locker. I see his momentary confusion on his face before it's wiped off yet again with a blank mask, I watch him as he opens the letter, probably reads taking the way his eyes move. As he stops he starts to scan the area with his ice cold stare that could drill a hole through diamond. I can't help but to let my eyes widen and my whole body shiver in sheer horror as his eyes land on me and I instantly duck my head inside my locker like it would save me from the piercing glare.

Panic rides in waves down my spine until it settles in my chest as I realize that I've been caught.

Feeling the urge to tug my hair washes over me, but before I can do that, a heavy hand lands on my shoulder and turns me harshly around. Sharp inhale is all I manage as I freeze over the cold piercing stare.

Fast I notice that something is wrong as the angry set of eyes seem to be drilling through my forehead, actually I can feel how painfully he tries to melt my brain to goo and let all the grey matter slide down from my ears to a disgusting puddle on to the ground. That image is gone as I feel my head hit the cold metal, I whimper from the pain as I see nothing but blackness for a while until the hard glare sets in my sights again. I notice that I'm being lifted by the collar of my shirt and pushed painfully against the locker.

"The fuck you staring at?" Craig says to me in a low, threatening voice. Face inches away from mine. I can't help but to look at the indifferent mask he is wearing as his voice holds all the emotion that his face seemingly can not.

My lower lip trembles as I open my mouth to say something, anything but noticing all the words failing me. All I can do is stare back at him with wide eyes.

As I say nothing he shoves me harder against the lockers and I feel something from the locker boring through my shirt, on my skin whatever it is, it's sharp and I wince. That's going to leave a mark.

I notice that a crowd has gathered around us and I can't help a pathetic noise from escaping through my lips.

He snarls at me and I can see that his having a bad day for he almost never acts this harshly. Craig's usually calm and collected, never wavering with emotion, but now I can see how his fighting to keep himself in check, wanting to shout at me and let his carefully made mask drop. I can hear somebody start shouting something but it passes through my ears as a fist makes connection with my ribs, I can't help but to fall in on my self from the painful impact that stole my breathe away. He uses that to his advantage and shoves me by my neck to the locker and all I can see is stars. His hand trembles lightly as I stare up at him, cringing. Barely having time to analyze his face as he gives me one more rough push against the locker as if reading my intention.

"Stop staring at me." He whispers harshly, voice strangled before letting me drop down to the ground as he walks away. I stare at his retreating form as I cough a couple of times, trying to regain my breath. You might ask me why I do this. Sometimes he may not notice me at all and let's it slid and rarely it ends like this. I know that I am his punching bag, but what can I do about it? Nothing, because he hates me.

From my peripheral vision I watch him go back to his locker and pocket a white crumbled letter before shutting the door and going on his way. Not sparing a second glance at me. And that's why I do this. I know he keeps every single one of my letters and saves them, without the knowledge of who writes them. It warms my heart more than I care to tell.

Sadly I let out a shaky sigh as I touch the back of my head. Wincing lightly at the contact, I draw my hand to my face and stare at my slightly bloodied finger tips. The last warning ring has went as I stay on the dirty floor. Having no intentions of getting up any time soon. I know I should get up but with my perfect records, one missing hour shouldn't hurt too much.

I let out a strange laugh at my self, for the person I feel so strongly about is the one who hates me the most. And I can't do a crap about it. Even though I pour some of my feeling in to the letters I write and give him. And I don't even want to know his reaction if he knew that those are from me. He'd probably burn them all and kick them at my face.

Letting my eyes slip shut, a tremor passes through me and every one of the last wandering students has disappeared from the now empty hall, leaving me all alone with my thoughts.


End file.
